Breathe No More
by Genis Aurion
Summary: [Kennycentric]. I've been looking in the mirror for so long that I've come to believe my soul's on the other side. I know the difference between myself and my reflection. But I just can't help but wonder: which of us do you love?


I hate song-fics, as you might know, but I'm really bored and I want to write new things… so, if you have any challenges and requests for me, now would be a good time to give 'em! I'll take on most anything… This is actually a modified version of Phoenix II's challenge, modified only because I hate song-fics, album-fics and anything of that sort.

If I get a lot of people that like this, say about ten, I will continue writing more like these.

**I will not say if this is slash or het**. That's up to you to decide. Though of course, I know my original intentions.

**Note:**_ Breath No More _is a song by Evanescence. For those traditional song-fic readers, no—the lyrics these relate to are _not_ in the same order as you would hear them in the song. Otherwise this fic would be horribly butchered to fit the song. Besides, the song should fit the story, not the other way around!

**Breathe No More  
_Zakuyoe_**

_I know the difference between myself and my reflection.  
I just can't help but to wonder,  
which of us do you love?_

Do you love me?—this impoverished boy that everyone but you mocks? Do you love me?—this lonely boy who suffers from physical abuse? Do you love me?—this boy who constantly dies unnoticed? Is it this boy you love? Or do you love _him_, that boy in the mirror that seems so much more appealing than whom I really am? Do you love my reflection?—that boy with those dazzling blue eyes you keep telling me about? Do you love my reflection?—that dirty boy whose hair you run your fingers through anyway? Do you love my reflection?—that boy whom you consistently give excuses to just so you can caress his stomach?

You've whispered so many different proclamations of love into my ear that I no longer know the answer. You say you love me for who I am, yet in the most intimate of moments you appease my body and not my inner soul. Instead of using your mouth to talk you use it to place kisses on that stomach you love so much. Instead of writing letters asking for my heart you write to ask for another night in bed. And yet every night before you sleep you tell me you love me, assuring me that you love for being who I am.

Am I jealous of him? Am I jealous he's won your heart? Is what's inside my soul really that damaged that you'd rather love my outside appearances? Has my soul taken more abuse than my body, from both my father and you?

Maybe I'm no longer myself. Maybe my reflection has won both you and me. Maybe he's taken my soul and stolen your heart, all so that I've become an empty case of darkness. But I still have emotions, and somehow that makes me still human, right?—but that doesn't make you love me any more than you do now.

What did I do to make you love him and not me? Were we once the same person?—did you ever even love me? Maybe I'm the one who's fucked up. Maybe I'm the one who thinks that you say you love me. Maybe you never really did love me.

But I _want_ you to love me. Even those days you worshipped him and not me I still felt that desire. He didn't fall in love with you, I did—but you love him anyway. If who I am is an empty case of darkness why do I feel the love you give him fill my insides? Is it that we're connected somehow?

No, we're not. If we were connected I wouldn't be bleeding the way I do now.

But what am I then? Am I the life that keeps my reflection alive? I'm broken beyond repair now—yet I know that you're capable of fixing this hurt. But you only love him, not me. If I tried to put myself together, if I even tried to show you how you love the wrong person, I know I'll just get hurt—you won't listen. All you'd do is whisper sweet nothing once more and deny the fact that you're in love with a physical appearance.

How do I know?—It's not like I haven't tried before. But what result did I obtain?—only you telling me that I wasn't thinking properly. You told me continuously how I was over thinking and that I'd see truth when I got better, that everything you kept telling me would make sense in time.

I want you to love me but instead you love him. I yearn for the day you turn your head to me, the day you finally tell me you love me—and mean it. But instead my desires only exist in my dreams, and what I'm left with is a life broken in many pieces.

And none of it to you matters anyway.

If only you knew. If only you would stop telling me you love me when he and I both know you don't. Whispers in the room, whispers at the restaurant, whispers by the lake, whispers in the car, whispers of love—whispers of lies. How much easier would it be for you to not deceive one of us, to say which of us you love?—but do you even know the difference that separates us apart? No. Instead you lie to me, to him. I have his soul and he has my guise. He feels nothing. I feel everything.

Maybe one day I'll find an answer to my misery. Maybe one day I'll get you to love me and not him. Maybe one day I will become one with him once again.

But if I even try touching him I only bleed more.

Which one of us do you love? Do you love me, the interior of a troubled mind and soul; or do you love him, the boy you've distinguished in your mind as Kenny McKormick? But I know that whatever answer you give me, whatever answer you give him—it won't matter. It'll only be another whisper of lies. In your heart only you'll know whom you truly love, and I know that in the end only one of us will be victorious in having your love.

_Which of us do you love?  
So I bleed...  
I breathe...  
I breathe no more._

In the distance I can hear falling shards shattering. But somehow, I know it's not the mirror that's broken.


End file.
